


Midnight

by turtledoves (sakroots)



Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Little bit of angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-31
Updated: 2015-12-31
Packaged: 2018-05-10 13:39:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 836
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5588023
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sakroots/pseuds/turtledoves
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Annie Cresta is ready for the perfect New Year's Eve. But, of course, nothing goes as she planned.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Midnight

**Author's Note:**

  * For [titania522](https://archiveofourown.org/users/titania522/gifts).



> This is for titania522, of course, for tumblr's thgsecretsnowflake event. Happy New Year, darling!
> 
> And thanks to the lovely ilprincipino (on fanfiction.net) for beta-ing.

The ceiling is the sky, at least for a while, and Annie is wearing a constellation of stars. When the door opens, the charade fades a bit, and the stars slide up as she does.

Her intruder picks up the plastic circlet, places it over her head, crooked, and says hello.

"Finnick!" she stands, and suddenly she's in his arms, and he's in a fit of laughter. It has been six days since she last saw him walking past security at the airport ready to go home for Christmas, leaving with too few kisses.

She reaches up, prepared to make up for it, but Johanna coughs from the doorway. "We're going to be late to the party," she announces.

"Go ahead," Finnick says, not looking back. "We'll see you there."

Johanna scowls, causing her bangs to fall over her eyes. "You don't know the way."

But the next thing Annie knows, her roommate is out the door, and Finnick's provoking her circlet to fall again. It hits the floor before Annie falls back on the bed, giggling with cliché hopes of a perfect night, the sky still alight above her.

* * *

 

It's thirty minutes to midnight when they leave, racing the clock, with Annie sitting shotgun to fix her braid. They make it to the freeway, heading south, when Finnick wrestles for her phone for directions.

"Hands on the wheel," she orders, securing her hair long enough to take back her phone and open Google Maps. By the time it loads, the circlet has been fixed over half-fishtailed hair, and Finnick's humming the end of a different song on the radio. As they pass an exit, an automated voice helpfully informs them to turn off now.

Finnick glances back at the disappearing green sign with a curse. Annie watches her screen turn black.

* * *

 

"I think, maybe," Annie says softly, "if we stayed in one place another car might—"

"And we'd do what? If you'd written the address on paper—"

"This isn't my fault, Finn!"

"Or maybe charged your phone—"

"At least I brought my phone."

"I know what I'm doing, okay?"

"Then why are you yelling at me?" Bringing up a hand to cover her shrill words, Annie is helpless to the tears that start to fall.

With a sigh, Finnick pulls the car to the side of the road. He stares ahead, as if the answers are there, before unbuckling and turning in his seat. For a moment, everything is silent. Then the streetlight flickers, a few people cheer from a nearby house, a television flashes purple and blue though a window. A moth lands on the windshield, and Annie watches it sit for a second or two and fly away. Behind it lies the sky, less forgiving than before.

"I'm sorry," she whispers, though she doesn't know whom it's for. She climbs over the center console and tries to curl up in her boyfriend's arms, the steering wheel at her back. His hands are comforting in the words they trace down her spine. He's sorry, too.

"12:04," he whispers.

Annie doesn't budge. Against her will, a few more tears slide free. If this were poetry, they'd taste like regret and loss and chagrin.

She merely cringes from the salt.

"You know what?" Finnick says, his voice cheerful. It hurts her ears. He fiddles with something for a while, disrupting Annie's solace, and places his watch in her hands.

11:55, it reads.

"I had a great year," he continues. "Spending more time with you, graduating, winning $100 from that bet with Johanna—remember that? She dared—"

Annie spins and stares at the clock in the car, not really listening. 12:06. "Did you change the time?"

"—me to shave half my head—"

"Finnick." Annie smiles, framing his face with her hands. "What are you doing?"

"I'm reminiscing, of course. Now where was I?"

"You're perfect," she whispers, glancing back to his watch.

11:57

He leans back in his seat, happy. "You're smiling."

Lifting her eyes up, Annie thinks. "Remember back in March? Your birthday? I dropped the cake on the ground."

Joining in, Finnick says, "And during summer, when I thought I saw a shark in the water?"

"We were in a swimming pool! Oh, and what about the time in the bookstore?"

"You got us kicked out for life."

"I didn't know the shelf would break!"

Time pauses as Annie leans forward, her forehead against Finnick's shoulder, and she tries to catch her breath. Concurrently, his laughter continues, unbreakable. She joins back in effortlessly when she remembers how to breathe.

The beeping of the watch barely cuts through the sound, and they both look down, searching for the dropped watch that had previously gone unnoticed.

"Midnight," Annie declares, rubbing her finger across the screen. She reaches for Finnick and pulls him in by his collar. It's a small kiss, broken by more laughter, but monumental all the same.

"Happy New Year," Finnick whispers, his forehead pressed to hers. The stars glitter overhead.


End file.
